Near the fireplace, an elderly woman crooked a finger at him. "Young man."
Thane immediately changed direction. "Yes, ma'am?"
She pointed toward the knitting spread across her lap. "I need an opinion."
Thane studied the yarn with all the seriousness of a man evaluating a playoff strategy. "That seems dangerous."
"So I've been told."
The woman beside her snorted. "Don't listen to Beverly. She asks everybody for opinions and then ignores them."
"That's because most people are wrong."
I laughed and carried a tray toward their table.
Beverly's face brightened. "Perfect."
That single word should have warned me. Before I could react, she dropped a ball of green yarn into my hands. "Hold this."
I stared at it. "I don't know what to do."
"Neither did I when I started."
Apparently, that settled the matter.
The woman beside her sighed. "See what I deal with?"
Beverly pointed a knitting needle at her. "Mrs. Thompson enjoys pretending she's the sensible one."
"I am the sensible one."
For the next several minutes, I found myself helping Beverly untangle yarn while Mrs. Thompson provided running commentary.
I glanced across the room where Thane was with a resident. I couldn't tell what the conversation was about, but Thane wasn'tchecking his phone or scanning the room for an escape. He was simply listening.
Mrs. Thompson followed my gaze. Oh boy.
Sure enough, Beverly turned toward me. "How long have you two been together?"
I nearly dropped the yarn.
Mrs. Thompson's tone carried decades of practice. "What? It's a reasonable question. He looks at you like you're the only person here."
Heat crept into my face.
As if summoned by the conversation, Thane glanced over. His eyes found mine immediately.
Beverly made a triumphant sound. "There."
Mrs. Thompson rolled her eyes. "Leave the poor boy alone."
"I am helping."
"Nobody asked for your help."
Beverly ignored her. "He's handsome, but that part's not important."
Mrs. Thompson nodded. "She's right about that."
